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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630047">Kitten Kong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/pseuds/AnnaFan'>AnnaFan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Memoriam [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue (Radio), The Goodies (TV), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Children's Games, Fairy Tales, Fluff, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23630047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFan/pseuds/AnnaFan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For Altariel, because we are both sad at the death of comedic genuis Tim Brooke Taylor, and because “the lovely Samantharwen” really needed to make it into a fic.  The faked-up news report of “Twinkle” knocking over the Post Office Tower is one of the abiding memories of my childhood, so of course it had to be Middle-Earth-ified. (And with thanks to Sian22 for having the idea of the parents of Middle Earth inventing absurd stories to amuse their children.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>In Memoriam [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701052</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Kitten Kong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altariel/gifts">Altariel</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Among the children's toys, one of Arwen's favourites was the set of building blocks.  The set contained not simply oblong blocks, but pillars, arches, steps, battlements, everything needed to make castles upon high mountains of cushions, cities overlooking fertile plains of carpet, and bridges spanning dramatic ravines between cliffs of towering book stacks.  Each block was lacquered in bright colours, such that the underlying grain of the wood showed through, primrose yellows, deep reds, sea blues, grass greens.</p><p>She watched fondly from the couch on which she sat embroidering a sampler, as Estel knelt on the carpet beside six year old Eldarion.  Today, they were building a tower, the tallest tower ever seen in Arda, to rival the finest workmanship of Numenor.  Eldarion's younger sister, Silmariën, was (for once) preoccupied by her tiny wooden rocking horse, much to her brother's relief, for (being only two) she had a tendency to take great delight in knocking towers down again as fast as they were built.</p><p>Arwen watched as, with his father's help, Eldarion built a truly magnificent tower.  Its base was broad, to support the pinnacle to come, with flying buttresses encompassing it.  It rose, taller than Eldarion himself, with his father helping to steady him as he stood upon a small stool to place the final turret.  Then he built a city around it – a castle with battlements for his toy knights, dwellings, a town hall with pillared portico.  Even stable blocks for his tiny carved wooden horses and their knights, a present for Mettarë from the King of Rohan.</p><p>Finally, pleased with his labours, he came to sit next to his mother on the sofa.  In between mouthfuls of honey cake, he narrated the story: “And that's where the king lives… and the horses live here… and cook and her helpers live in these houses… and all the King's councillors make very long, boring speeches in here…” (Arwen cast a sidelong glance at her husband, who looked slightly sheepish; clearly, little pitchers had big ears.  Bigger than Aragorn had realised.)</p><p>But, at this point, disaster struck.  The kitchen cat appeared at the window, and sinuously slipped through the open casement, to land gracefully upon the floor.  Always keen to investigate new worlds, it made its way to the colourful city on the carpet.  It sniffed, it rubbed, it nudged its cheek against the town hall.  </p><p>Down came the portico.  Then several of the dwellings tumbled in its wake, almost efficiently as a line of dominoes set up for that very purpose.</p><p>“Naneth,” wailed Eldarion.  “Make the cat go away.  It's spoiling EVERYTHING.”</p><p>But worse was to come.  His wails alerted his sister to the interesting events unfolding in the centre of the room.  She dismounted from her horse, not entirely elegantly, for she landed with a faint whump upon her bottom, then – placing her hands on the floor – levered herself back into a standing position.</p><p>“Cah!” she said, proudly pointing at the animal.  “Want cah.”  And with startling rapidity, she headed towards it.  The cat, correctly fearing for the safety of its tail, attempted to scale the high tower to get out of reach.  Instantly the blocks collapsed, and with a yowl, the cat bolted back out through the window.  Silmariën started to cry too, and a complete cacophony ensued.</p><p>Aragorn strode over and scooped Silmariën up, carrying her over to the window so they could look for the cat.  Arwen pulled Eldarion onto her lap and kissed his hair, and dabbed his tears away with a handkerchief.</p><p>“Ada will help you rebuild your city and your tower.  But, do you know what Elves do in times of great sadness?”</p><p>With a gulp, Eldarion managed to say “No.”</p><p>“We take our sadness, and our disappointment, and we weave it into tales and song, so that the music acts as balm to our sadness.  Would you like me to tell you the story of the ancient Númenórean city of Blocks-on-Carpet, one of the first outpost of Númenór to be built in Middle Earth?  And the fate that befell it?”</p><p>Eldarion looked up at his mother with huge eyes.  He did indeed love her stories, and this would be an extra special one, for it would be about his city, the city that he had raised up from the merest foundations.</p><p>“It was in the time of Queen Berúthiel, a Black Númenórean, later described as 'nefarious, solitary and loveless.'  The only thing to be said for her was her love of her cats, which will prove to be central to our story.</p><p>“On the coastal plains to the south of Anduin, which at that time were part of Gondor, and not yet contested territory, there lay a mighty city, Blocks-on-Carpet, so called because it was built of mighty blocks of quarried marble which, due to some strange quirk of the mineral composition in that area, came in many shades of colours, and because it was a city renowned for the luxurious carpets its weavers made.  In fact, I do believe that the carpet in the centre of this room may be a copy of a copy of a copy of one of those carpets.”</p><p>Arwen saw her husband, half turned from her, Silmariën held up in his arms, stifle a laugh, though he could not suppress the smile that went with it.  Controlling the twitch at the corner of her own mouth, she continued the tale.</p><p>“However, eventually the mayor and councillors over-reached themselves, and set out to build a tower to the heavens.  Why they did so remains the subject of argument.  Some said that their motives were of the basest imaginable; they wished to build a tower to the sphere across which Eärendil carries the Silmaril which Lúthien and Beren wrested from Morgoth.  Some even said that they wished to lay hands upon the Silmaril and bring it back to earth.</p><p>“Others imputed to them a much more benign motive; the philosophers of Blocks-on-Carpet were merely fascinated by the motions of the heavenly bodies upon their nested crystal spheres and wished to study them from a closer vantage point.</p><p>“Whatever the reasons, work began upon the tower.  A rocky outcrop was selected to provide a firm base on which to build, and a tower, wide at its base and gradually tapering, with a spiral stair running within its interior, began to rise in courses.  Many men quarried the blocks, more transported them, and yet more hoisted them into place and laid them in courses.  Sadly, of these a substantial number died before their time in the efforts, and whether built from base or noble motives, the tower was cemented with the blood of those taken before their time.”</p><p>Eldarion looked up at his mother, rapt with attention and that frisson of excitement that comes from a story which has taken a darker turn, eyes like saucers.</p><p>“Meanwhile, far away in the royal palace, Queen Berúthiel had been engaged in dark deeds of her own.  She had taken to cross-breeding her cats with larger breeds of cats taken from the far Haradwaith and mountains far to the east of Rhun, lions with tawny manes, and tigers with golden and black stripes, like the rising sun casting beams across the night sky of the desert.  She fed the offspring upon the blood of oliphaunts and the flesh of dragons, hoping to increase still further their size and strength far beyond that even of the lions and tigers which had supplied their bloodlines.</p><p>“Finally, she bred a kitten which, even at the age at which it first opened its little kitten eyes, was already larger than the largest oliphaunt, approaching the size of a firedrake of the north.  The kitten's fur was white, shot with flashes of mithril, almost like the light of Eärendil's Silmaril, hence the kitten's name, Twinkle.”</p><p>Aragorn definitely gave a snort of laughter at this, and Arwen shot him a warning glance, not wanting him to spoil the story.</p><p>“But one night Twinkle escaped.  She ran wild across the fertile lands of Lossarnach, eating whole flocks of sheep and herds of cows, then drank from Anduin, such a deep draft that the river level didn't recover for a whole rainy season, then she leapt across it in one bound and scampered south, to the city of Blocks-on-Carpet.  There she knocked down the castle, and the town hall, and many of the dwellings.</p><p>“But a brave Elven shield-maiden from the north, Samantharwen, rode to the rescue upon her trusty steed.  Dismounting she fought the kitten bravely.  Her sword flashed, her shield was raised.  The kitten's fangs were sharp, her claws fierce.  The like of their battle has not been seen since, until the White Lady of Rohan fought and slew the Witch King of Angmar upon the Pelennor.  </p><p>“For a while it looked as though brave Lady Samantharwen might be bested by the kitten of doom, but then she seized the beast's tail.  With a yowl which could be heard from Pelargir to Umbar, the kitten shot up the high tower, and the tower began to sway, almost imperceptibly at first, then in wider and wider arcs until finally it crashed to the ground.</p><p>“Twinkle lay stunned amid the ruins, and the town folk hastened, under Samantharwen's instruction, to bind the kitten with the stoutest, thickest ropes they could find.  A huge raft was built, and they sailed the kitten out to the Island of Tolfalas so that it could be safely contained, for cats hate water and they knew it would not swim back to shore.  And the kitten learned to fish, so it did not go hungry, but snagged passing sharks and whales with its paws, and lived out its life upon the island.”</p><p>Aragorn could resist no longer.  He chipped in with “And that is why Tolfalas produces such particularly fine wines, for cat poo makes the ideal fertiliser in which to grow the vines.”</p><p>“Ewww, Ada.  I shall never, never, never drink wine,” declared Eldarion.</p><p>“And Samantharwen was fêted, and when they rebuilt the city, the town square had a statue in her honour.  And the architect and his father who had built the tower vowed they would never again tempt the Valar, and instead built a very fine astronomical observatory on a nearby mountain top from which they could study the stars without succumbing to hubris.</p><p>“Samantharwen returned to the north, where she trained a succession of knights and lived to do many more brave deeds, many of which were recorded by a veritable army of archivists.”</p><p>Aragorn put Silmariën back down on the carpet.  “Come, Eldarion, let us rebuild your city.  And perhaps Naneth can show Silmariën how to ride to battle like the noble Samantharwen.”  To his credit, Aragorn only rolled his eyes very slightly at this thought.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tb59dEHRt5Q&amp;feature=youtu.be"> Kitten Kong on the loose in London</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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